


muted.

by lushwang (theangryblob)



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Angst, M/M, Pining, i mean its barely mentioned but the point is that theyre Young, soft angst?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-03
Updated: 2018-05-03
Packaged: 2019-05-01 10:35:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,014
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14518605
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theangryblob/pseuds/lushwang
Summary: it doesn't feel right to leave seungkwan alone with his thoughts, but wonwoo can never escape his own.





	muted.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [markrenton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/markrenton/gifts).



> RANI.... IM SO SORRY.... this was supposed to be a soft cute drabble but i accidentally... made angst... promise i'll write the cutest sweetest wonboo for you someday but for now accept my pitiful offering to the wonboo shrine

“here- seungkwan, _here,_ c’mon gimme your hands,” wonwoo reaches out and seungkwan pouts, bottom lip jutting out cutely before he sticks his hands up in front of wonwoo’s face. wonwoo is caught for a moment, gaze lost somewhere between the bruised pink of seungkwan’s cheeks and the way his eyes shine, street lights reflecting off his irises like stars, like a glossy ocean.

he looks away sharply, takes seungkwan’s hands in his so he can blow on his fingers. seungkwan squeaks like he hadn’t been expecting it, and wonwoo tightens his grip around seungkwan’s hands before he can pull away. 

(his fingers smell like that mint hand cream he bought a week ago, had slathered all over wonwoo’s palms, tutting all the while about _calluses_. seungkwan complains about how wonwoo’s hands feel _sharp_ in his, thin and blocky and uncomfortable, but he doesn’t let go. he just massages the cream into the spaces between wonwoo’s knuckles, thumbs drawing soothing patterns over his skin till he’s satisfied. it’s weird. wonwoo doesn’t know what to make of this - he wonders if he’s always been this pliant with his friends.)

“thanks,” seungkwan murmurs when wonwoo finally lets go. he catches a glimpse of the apples of seungkwan’s cheeks flushing a gorgeous rose before seungkwan pats his own face, transferring what little heat wonwoo had given him to his skin. 

it’s late and it’s far too cold to be outside. just yesterday it was snowing, and with the way the clouds are rolling overhead, dark and murky, wonwoo thinks it’ll snow again soon. 

(seungkwan doesn’t want to go home. and he’s never said it out loud, but wonwoo won’t either, not till he’s walked seungkwan to the back door of his house and watched him sneak in. seungkwan never says why - wonwoo can guess, he can come up with a thousand possibilities, but what matters here is the way seungkwan always avoids the topic, chooses instead to look shallow by talking about the trivial and the frivolous. wonwoo could listen to him talk all day long, would never get bored of it, but it’s hard to forget the small things: the way seungkwan laughs too hard, how his smile doesn’t always reach his eyes, the brief, split second of panic that flashes over his face before he thinks of a lie that’s believable enough. 

seungkwan is always performing. wonwoo is always thinking - he’s too much of a coward to do anything else.)

seungkwan takes all the snacks they’d bought and placed between them and puts them on his lap, shuffling closer on the bench so he can lean against wonwoo, putting his head against his shoulder. “god, it’s cold. if i get sick it’s your fault-” nevermind that seungkwan had asked to hang out, wonwoo will take the blame entirely. the thought of seungkwan sniffling and snotty has his heart aching, even if it’s just a hypothetical, and he wraps his arm a little tighter around seungkwan’s frail shoulders. “-i can’t afford to get sick you know, i have another audition on tuesday and i need my voice in top condition or that _bitch_ will get my spot instead. _god-_ ”

wonwoo has heard this rant before. he listens all the same though, doesn’t interrupt, because he knows that some things are just easier to talk about. it’s easier complaining about the tiny, meaningless annoyances than it is about the things that are really hurt.

wonwoo wishes he could just ask seungkwan what’s really wrong instead of coming out every night, sitting with him on a bench at the park they used to play at when they were kids. he buys snacks from the convenience store and plies seungkwan with them till he finally _eats,_ accepts wonwoo’s affection with verbal denial. seungkwan is always asking for affection, always shameless in the way he practically _begs_ for it, but wonwoo hopes that it’s different with him. seungkwan gets hugs and kisses and declarations of love from all their friends, but the gentle, muted way wonwoo tries to stay with him - always wanting to shower him with love, always holding himself back - leaves seungkwan stumbling for his words, pink at the ears. 

wonwoo hopes it’s different. 

he turns his head, buries his nose in seungkwan’s hair as he shuts his eyes, listening to the sound of his voice. it’s late. wonwoo is tired. he doesn’t want to go home though, not yet. he has an exam tomorrow and he knows soonyoung is going to tease him for his dark circles, but he doesn’t want to go just yet. 

“seungkwan,”

his own voice sounds strange to his ears, deep and heavy with exhaustion. 

seungkwan looks up at him, doe eyes sparkling in the light, and wonwoo’s words get caught in his throat, mouth open but no sound coming out. seungkwan is so _young,_ younger than him, sweet faced and innocent, but sometimes wonwoo looks at him and he wonders how someone so small can carry so much. 

(it just doesn’t feel right, he thinks. it doesn’t feel right to leave seungkwan alone with his thoughts, to refuse him when he wants company, when he’s lonely but too scared to say the words. 

wonwoo wants to be with him, even when seungkwan doesn’t need him. trying to come to terms with that is just as hard as he’d anticipated.)

whatever he’d wanted to say is gone, but seungkwan is still looking at him. wonwoo tries for a smile, but he knows it must come out wobbly, quirked up in the wrong places. 

“aren’t you going to eat? you made me buy all these snacks, don’t make me take them home.”

seungkwan huffs, wiggles petulantly at wonwoo’s side before he picks up a packet of chips, tearing it open with his fingers. “fine. but you have to eat too. if i wanted to eat alone, i would have stayed at home.”

wonwoo’s voice is small, pliant. he can’t refuse seungkwan. “okay, okay,” he whispers back. it doesn’t feel right to ignore the way his heart hurts, but he doesn’t know what else to do.

**Author's Note:**

> constructive criticism is always welcome~


End file.
